


That Tender Age

by i_know_its_0ver



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_know_its_0ver/pseuds/i_know_its_0ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur forces Merlin to come on a hunt with him, even though he knows he hates it. Disastrous consequences (and sweet moments) ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Tender Age

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [That Awkward Age](http://archiveofourown.org/works/190010), though it can also be read as a stand alone.
> 
> this is technically a canon-era AU because 1) they are younger than when the show begins and 2) they've grown up together. Everything else remains the same.
> 
> Warnings for fairly explicit sexual content, and underage.

Merlin hated hunts. Arthur knew this, of course he did. Merlin insisted on reminding him every single time, after all. He would drag his heels about preparing the horses, then try to beg off, faking illness or claiming Gaius needed his help and couldn’t possibly spare him. He put in an admirable effort, but Arthur still made him come along.

It was selfish, really. Merlin may not enjoy himself (though Arthur wasn’t sure exactly which part of the outing he found so distasteful), but Arthur liked having his company, his steady presence and incessant chatter to wile away the empty hours of riding. The other young nobles could be bawdy and fun, but being with them was more like a chore. They treated him differently because of his title, even if they tried to hide it. No one ever let him do the gruesome tasks, or gave him a well deserved ribbing if he let a target get away.

Merlin, on the other hand, complained and called Arthur all manner of unpleasant names and refused to handle the dead carcasses, even though it was his job. He was rude and useless as always, and for some absurd reason it made Arthur even more fond of him in those moments.

Though he never explained any of this to his servant. He didn’t have to, after all, he was the prince and Merlin did as he commanded (in theory, anyway). If he wanted Merlin to accompany him that should be enough, never mind the reasons behind it.

Though what it boiled down to was that Arthur dreaded how much Merlin would tease him if he ever revealed just how much he enjoyed his company. Arthur was always mocking Merlin for sounding like a girl whenever he got overly sentimental (which was not as often as Arthur would like, actually, though he would never admit to _enjoying_ the whispered endearments shared between kisses).

But those endearments were in desperately short supply this morning. Arthur had woken up feeling refreshed and energized, and had automatically reached for Merlin for what had become their routine morning kiss (which sometimes devolved into heated tussling about on the bed, which on very good days ended with both of them naked. Unfortunately there would be no time for that this morning).

But Merlin stayed out of reach, throwing pointed glares in the prince’s general direction as he set about preparing Arthur’s bath and laying out his breakfast.

“Your bath is ready, _sire_ ,” Merlin tossed over his shoulder without bothering to turn around.

Well, apparently _that_ was how things were going to be today. Arthur tried again to catch Merlin in an embrace, but the skinny boy squirmed from his grasp and continued about his chores without pause.

Arthur heaved a disappointed sigh and sat down at the table, eying his breakfast dejectedly. If this was how the entire day was going to be then he was guaranteed to have no fun at all. He knew he had to put up with the other nobles’ formalities and distance, but he couldn’t bear it when Merlin treated him like a stranger as well.

“Merlin, will you please stop moping and come here,” Arthur tried to command, but it came out sounding pathetically close to a whine.

It was the wrong thing to say. “I am _not_ moping. Some of us have work to do in the mornings, rather than laze about, _Your Highness_.” Oh great. Merlin only used that title when he was really miffed.

Arthur briefly considered excusing Merlin from the hunt, if only to make him stop scowling. But then Arthur would be miserable without him, so perhaps it was best to cancel it all together. And then he could spend the day hunting much more agreeable quarry, like a certain creature with black hair and adorably over-sized ears and very, very soft lips.

It was a tempting thought, but Arthur knew it wasn’t possible. Uther was always lecturing him about the importance of training and gaining experience for the day when he would rule the kingdom (though Arthur wasn’t sure exactly how killing deer would make him a better king). If he canceled without a better excuse than “but my manservant won’t let me kiss him for days if I make him go” Uther would be furious (though that was still preferable to being disowned, which is what would probably happen if he told the truth).

No, there was no getting out of it. And if Arthur had to go, so did Merlin. It would do the boy some good, anyhow, teach him that nothing would come of his obstinate moping. Because Arthur was _not_ a pushover, even when Merlin pouted those delicious, plump lips at him.

Arthur gave up trying to coax Merlin out of his sulk and ate his breakfast in dejected silence. He picked his way through half of it, pushing it around his plate in a way that always made Merlin snap at him. Well, usually, anyway. Apparently Merlin was too angry to even scold him today.

He gave it up and rose to take his bath. It was Merlin’s job to undress him, but today, remaining true to his resolve, he failed to so much look at the prince, even when Arthur cleared his throat none too subtly. But Merlin was busy pretending to collect things for the day’s outing, even though Arthur knew he had done it all last night.

Fine. If Merlin was going to ignore him than he would just _make_ him look. Two could play this game.

He stripped himself slowly, facing away from Merlin’s stronghold in the corner. He stretched his arms up lazily as he pulled the tunic over his head, feeling the satisfying ache of stiff morning muscles. He tossed the shirt to the side and untied his sleeping breeches, letting them fall of their own accord, slipping over his narrow hips. He stretched again, bending down to retrieve them and toss them out of the way.

He heard a smothered gasp from the corner and smiled to himself in satisfaction. Now he knew he had Merlin’s attention, at least. He slid into the small bath tub, sighing in utter content as the warm water sloshed over his chilled skin. It was still only the early days of Spring, and a hot bath felt like heaven after the cold nights. He reclined as much as possible in the cramped space, before beginning his methodical cleaning.

On happier mornings Merlin would help him with this chore, swiping the cloth over his chest and back playfully, letting it wander lower with a provocative smirk while trying to play innocent. More often than not Merlin ended up in the tub as well.

Washing himself wasn’t nearly as fun. Arthur snuck a sidelong glance to where Merlin was still loitering in the corner, pretending not to watch him. He sighed. Even this wasn’t working. If he didn’t figure out how to snap Merlin out of this mood he was going to spend the day very wound up and frustrated, which certainly wouldn’t help his humor, or his hunting skills.

Arthur stood from the tub, tired of playing this game if Merlin wasn’t going to join in. He turned abruptly to catch Merlin watching him, blue eyes going wide as he took in the prince’s nakedness. Not that it was unfamiliar; Merlin had been helping to dress and bathe Arthur long before they became intimate. But that didn’t seem to desensitize him to the sight of the bare, wet body before him, still exhibiting the obvious signs of morning arousal. Merlin flushed bright red and Arthur felt his own face following suit.

Even though they had been together for several months now it still flustered Arthur every time Merlin looked at him like that, like he _wanted_ him. No one else had ever looked at him that way (at least no one who hadn’t been lusting over his wealth or power). Sometimes he still found it hard to believe that _Merlin_ , gorgeous, gentle Merlin, could want him. It was both exciting and terrifying.

Arthur tried to hide his embarrassment behind gruff words, as usual. It wasn’t fair that Merlin could ignore him all morning and then look at him like _that_ when he clearly had no intention of touching. So it wasn’t really his fault if the command came out sounding colder than intended.

“Don’t just sit there, grab me my towel. Have you forgotten your duties?” Wrong thing to say again. Arthur was in top form this morning.

Merlin stormed from the corner, grabbed the towel and threw it in Arthur’s face along with a heated glare.

“Here is your towel, _sire_ I trust you can wipe your own royal arse.” And with that he stormed out, probably off to complain to Gaius, Arthur guessed. Great, now he would have the two of them glaring at him with those damn wiggly eyebrows. It sent a chill down his spine, though that could just be the cold air.

Any other servant would probably be sent to the dungeons for that kind of talk, possibly even hanged for treason if Uther caught them. But Arthur just felt guilty, already considering ways he could get Merlin to forgive him without having to apologize, as such. Because there was no way he could admit guilt and continue to maintain his already pitiful authority over his manservant.

He heaved a weary sigh, fussing over the laces and ties Merlin usually took care of for him. Oh hell, he’d probably be groveling at Merlin’s feet before nightfall, beginning the servant’s pardon. And they both knew it.

****

At least the weather was clear, that was the only saving grace on this thoroughly miserable day.

They had set out on the hunt later than planned, because Merlin had taken his sweet time preparing the horses. And Arthur regretted the loss of Merlin’s chatter even more today since they were accompanied by Kay, John, and James, who were most certainly _not_ Arthur’s particular favorites among his peers. He knew they had been coerced into this just as he had, by fathers trying to win Uther’s favor through his son. They all had that sullen look of putting up with a great hardship that they were forced to suffer through silently.

By midday the party was deep in the forest, but still hadn’t caught so much as a rabbit. And it wasn’t for lack of game. Merlin was being particularly clumsy today, which Arthur was sure he was doing on purpose, and his own aim was worse than usual, probably due to his distraction. The other’s seemed to be suffering from similar afflictions. Their collective mood was dropping steadily until even polite chatter died away into tense silence.

They stopped for lunch near a quiet stream, which was small but overflowing from the recent Spring thaw. The water was icy cold and refreshing, helping to wake Arthur up and dispel a bit of his black mood. Merlin led the horses over for a drink and refilled the empty water skins while the boys chose a place to sit and have their meal.

Merlin was still acting formal and distant as he set about the preparations. He had disappeared back to the horses to retrieve the saddle bags when Arthur heard a commotion from the other boys.

“Arthur!” they called in hushed whispers, motioning him over. He moved as silently as he could, fearing that they had spotted bandits or soldiers in the woods. Maybe they could still sneak away undetected. His hand went to the pommel of his sword, but he left it sheathed.

But when he joined them he found the boys pointing and whispering excitedly to one another. Not ten yards away was a great stag, easily 15 hands, with the most impressive set of antlers Arthur had ever seen. If they could bring this magnificent beast down their fathers would surely be proud. Uther might even honor them with a small feast. Arthur could just picture his face, glowing with pride as he bragged to the lords about the trophy his son brought home.

Arthur felt something other than tense boredom for the first time that day. His hunter instincts kicked in, and he was reaching for his crossbow, raising it and aiming carefully, hoping for one clean shot so they wouldn’t have to pursue the beast through the forest. He could feel the other boys’ excitement pulsing around him as he placed his finger on the trigger, about to pull—

“What’s going on?” Merlin called, plodding through the underbrush and managing to sound like an entire herd of cows. Arthur pulled the trigger, but it was too late, the beast had started at the noise and already turned to flee. Arthur’s arrow embedded itself harmlessly in a tree trunk.

In an instant all four boys were turned to face Merlin, faces matching masks of fury.

“ _Mer_ lin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?! You scared it away, you bumbling idiot!”

Arthur knew he shouldn’t have said it. The look on Merlin’s face was hovering somewhere between hurt and embarrassment. For all their mutual teasing Arthur didn’t usually insult Merlin in front of others; it set a bad example and opened Merlin up as fair game for further abuse.

Arthur looked down to see Merlin carrying an armload full of food. He was only trying to be helpful, he had no idea that he was doing something mind-bogglingly stupid. Arthur realized this, knew he shouldn’t be mad, but all the tension of the day was boiling over. First Merlin wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t even talk to him, now he was ruining the hunt and embarrassing Arthur in front of his peers. Was he purposely trying to make him miserable? There was a limit to how much he could take in one day.

Merlin shuffled his feet awkwardly, not sure how to face four angry stares at once. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, managing to sound both apologetic and petulant, “I didn’t know.”

Before Arthur could scold him further Kay stepped up to the task.

“You didn’t know?” he asked snidely. “This is a hunt, idiot, what did you think we were doing out here? You’ve scared away every animal we’ve seen today, you oaf!” His tone made Arthur cringe, and he was about to step in and put a stop to this. Everyone made mistakes, it was best to just let it go and get on with lunch. They would all feel better after a good tuck-in.

But then Merlin had to open his stupid, beautiful mouth.

“Don’t blame me just because you all are shite hunters.” The words came out low and even, but Arthur could hear the bite behind them.

And so did the others. John gaped for a minute before his face turned into an almost gleeful scowl.

“Who do you think you are talking to, _servant_? Hasn’t the prince taught you any manners?”

Arthur tried to step in at this point, to shut them all up before Merlin said something that couldn’t be taken back. Arthur knew he gave his servant far too much leeway, let him forget about the strict proprieties of rank when they were alone. But he never thought Merlin would dare to take such liberties with other people, people who wouldn’t forgive his thoughtless bursts of anger like Arthur did.

Merlin had dropped the bundle of food and looked tensed for a fight. Oh God, this was getting out of hand. Merlin would get himself killed at this rate, there was no way he could stand up to a knight-in-training. John stepped forward, and Arthur fully expected to hear his sword pull from its sheath. He closed his eyes for just a second, not ready to face what came next and with no plan to get them out of it.

But instead of the familiar _clang_ of metal he heard a loud _splash!_

He opened his eyes to find Merlin sprawled in the small stream, spluttering for air, completely drenched. The water wasn’t very deep, but it was running swiftly, and he was having a hard time pulling himself upright. The three boys were standing on the bank howling with laughter, satisfied smirks on their detestable faces.

At first Merlin looked furious, ready to get up and continue this battle. But then he kept slipping back on the slick rocks, immersing himself even further. In a matter of seconds he seemed to forget all about his anger, focusing only on getting up. He was shivering already, Arthur could see it even from several feet away. His face looked slightly panicked, and he was flailing a bit helplessly.

Arthur stepped forward, pushing the other three away with a fierce look that silenced their mirth. Picking on a servant boy was one thing, offending the prince of Camelot quite another, and they knew when to hold their tongues.

Still, they did not deign to help the prince, stepping back and watching as Arthur hauled Merlin from the stream on his own, getting his boots and sleeves wet in the process. He could feel how icy the water was, and understood why Merlin looked so miserable.

Arthur hauled him out carefully, trying to avoid getting wet as much as possible. The air around them had chilled in the waning afternoon sun, and Merlin continued to shiver spastically, hands trying to wring some of the water from his clothes, but shaking too hard to be of much use.

Arthur removed his cloak and threw it over Merlin’s shoulders, moving close to wrap it tight around him. But Merlin pulled back, as if burned by Arthur’s touch. He pulled the cloak around himself, but kept his distance from the prince. He looked tired and drawn, but there was still a bit of fire behind those eyes, and Arthur could feel its full smoldering force directed at him.

Merlin sneezed, startling Arthur, who wasn’t sure what to do, since Merlin apparently didn’t want to be touched. But then he sneezed again, a short string of sneezes actually, which seemed to break Arthur out of his panicked daze and goad him into action.

“Kay!” he barked in his most princely commanding voice, catching the youth off-guard, still sniggering behind his hands with the others. He straightened hastily at Arthur’s tone, like a soldier at attention.

“Yes, sire?” he asked, the others following his lead.

“Go fetch the horses,” Arthur commanded. “John, I need you to ride ahead, let Gaius know we’re coming, and that Merlin will need his attention. Tell him to get a hot bath ready, and dry clothes. We should arrive back at Camelot by sundown.” The two boys nodded and hurried off to their assigned tasks, not daring to protest.

Kay returned quickly with the remaining four horses, looking displeased to be doing a servant’s work, but not daring to challenge his prince. Arthur led Merlin to his horse and tried to help him up, but again Merlin shrugged off his touch. Arthur could feel the skinny boy shivering violently under the cape, which was now almost as soaked as the rest of his clothes. They needed to hurry.

The others mounted and they set off, Kay and James taking the lead, and Arthur trying to keep as close to Merlin as he could without earning himself any more withering glares. He kept a vigilant eye on Merlin, noting that his hands were shaking around the reins, and he looked exhausted, shoulder’s slouched, body bouncing like a rag doll in his saddle. Arthur didn’t want to risk too fast a pace, since Merlin didn’t look strong enough to keep his seat at a gallop, but he didn’t want to waste any time either.

He tried to keep the panic at bay, but his mind was supplying him with unbidden facts and memories, things he had been taught in knight training about wilderness survival, patients he had watched Gaius treat. He knew it was critical that they get Merlin warmed up, and soon.

Several times Merlin looked ready to pass out, but each time Arthur called out to him, kept him focused. It was slower going than he had hoped, but they managed to make it back to the city just as dusk was falling.

When they entered the courtyard Arthur quickly dismounted and moved to help Merlin, who looked like he wanted to resist, but ended up slipping clumsily out of his saddle, landing against Arthur’s chest in a boneless heap.

Gaius was waiting for them, looking anxious as a mother cat. Merlin smiled weakly when he saw his guardian, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stand upright without leaning against Arthur, swaying woozily until Arthur slung a steadying arm around his shoulders. Merlin didn’t seem to have the fight left to resist this time.

“Oh, Merlin, you silly boy, what have you done now?” Gaius admonished, but there was no trace of anger in his words. He sounded resigned and long-suffering and not altogether surprised. Gaius checked Merlin over, feeling his pulse and laying a hand against his skin. It was cold as ice, Arthur noted, and his breath was coming in rapid, shallow gasps. That couldn’t be good.

Gaius seemed to agree, shooting Arthur one of his raised-eyebrow looks, which the prince interpreted as part scolding, part concern. He knew Gaius would probably give him a proper lecture on safety and responsibility later, but they both knew now was not the time.

“Help me bring him to my quarters,” Gaius commanded the prince, as only he could get away with. Arthur wanted to protest, to bring Merlin to his own chambers, with its soft, spacious bed. Gaius must have predicted this response, because he added “I have a strong fire and hot water all ready. We need to hurry.” Arthur nodded in curt acquiescence.

Gaius threw an arm under Merlin’s other shoulder, and together they helped the boy half-walk, half-drag himself to the physician’s rooms, dropping him carefully in the bed Gaius had set in front of a roaring fire.

Merlin sighed in relief, feeling the heat of the fire, but Arthur knew that wouldn’t be enough, not when he had spent so long drenched and freezing. He reached to start pulling Merlin’s wet clothes off, but a drowsy hand batted him away.

Gaius placed a soft hand on Arthur’s shoulder, steering him toward the door. “I think it’s best you leave this to me now, Arthur. You need to go get yourself warmed up.” Arthur looked like he was going to protest, but Gaius continued in his no-nonsense doctor tone, “You’ll be no use to Merlin if you get sick as well, not to mention your father will never let me hear the end of it.”

Arthur had to concede the truth of his point. His father would be furious at both of them if he were to catch ill from this. He would probably blame Merlin, which Arthur couldn’t bear.

“Go to your chambers, dry off, have your dinner. I’ll let you know how Merlin is doing later.” And Gaius looked so compassionate and understanding that Arthur couldn’t argue with him, only squeezing his shoulder in silent thanks before reluctantly leaving. He threw a parting glance at Merlin, who was curled up on the bed, whimpering softly.

****

Gaius was crazy, Arthur decided, or just plain stupid, if he thought there was any way Arthur could relax, or even _think_ about eating, when his mind was full of Merlin. He had half a mind to rush back down there and refuse to leave, if he didn’t well know that he would just be getting in Gaius’s way.

Arthur sighed, sinking back into his chair by the fire, feet still thawing in front of the open flames. How had all of this happened? He thought back over the day, how it had gone from bad to worse to disastrous.

He felt terrible about the incident. That was what he had taken to calling it in his head, because he didn’t know how else to classify it. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at Merlin like that. It’s not like he had interfered on purpose. But once Arthur started in the others had followed suit, taking out the day’s frustrations on the most convenient target.

Merlin should have known better than to fight back, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to blame him. John had been unnecessarily harsh, and Arthur would never have put up with such insults. He tried to remind himself that Merlin was a servant and had no right to contest the words of a noble, but he found the argument hollow.

He had meant to step in, but it had all happened so fast. And then there was the way Merlin had looked at him, sitting in the cold water, the other boys enjoying his humiliation. He looked like he had been betrayed, like Arthur had let him down.

That was the worst part of all, and Arthur knew deep down that he was right.

He tried to stop thinking about it, but it played over and over in his mind, on an endless loop: Kay shouting with that gleeful sneer; Merlin glaring back with righteous defiance; Merlin sitting in the river, staring at him with hard eyes; Merlin shivering, shying away from his touch. The images were torturing him.

He stood up, pacing before the fireplace, trying to relieve some of the nervous energy pooling in his gut. But the repetitive motion didn’t seem to help, only made him more anxious.

This was ridiculous. He had to know what was going on.

Arthur stormed out of his room, not even bothering to put on his shoes or coat, all but running the short distance to Gaius’s chambers. He entered without knocking, and Gaius turned, hardly surprised to see him there.

He looked worn out, older than Arthur remembered him being just a few short hours ago. His mouth was set in a firm frown, brow creased tightly.

Arthur joined him where he sat by the bed. The fire was still blazing strong, making the whole room feel stuffy. Merlin was tossing about, sweat on his brow and fingers clutched in the sheets. His eyes were closed but Arthur didn’t think he could actually be sleeping, looking so tense.

“He has a fever,” Gaius explained, pulling over a chair for Arthur, a silent signal that he would not be kicked out.

Arthur reached out a hand to touch Merlin’s glistening forehead and felt the heat, hot as a glowing coal. He drew his hand back quickly and Merlin let out a soft whimper.

Gaius motioned toward a bowl of water by the bed, and Arthur picked up a small cloth, wetting it and wringing out the excess water before placing it on Merlin’s forehead. It was something Gaius did for him whenever he came down with fever, and he knew how soothing it felt in that delirious state.

Gaius sighed, smoothing down the bed sheets, only to have Merlin squirm and throw them off again.

He looked concerned, and Arthur was almost afraid to ask. It was never good when Gaius looked that way, because it meant he had done all he could and was out of possibilities.

“Will…” Arthur started, but felt his voice stick in his throat. He tried again, willing his voice not to quaver. “Will he be alright?” he asked, watching Merlin’s face contort in discomfort.

“I think so, yes,” Gaius said, but it wasn’t the most convincing answer ever. “He spent a long time in the cold, it was fairly severe. But I’ve given him several potions to help restore the blood circulation and fight the fever. It should break in a day or two, and then he will be weak for a while, but I don’t foresee any serious long-term problems. Merlin is...stronger than he looks,” he added with a fond smile at the sleeping boy.

Arthur sighed in relief, letting his shoulders sag and resting his head in his hands. Merlin would be alright, he would pull through this. Whether he would ever forgive Arthur was another matter entirely, but for now that was good enough.

Gaius stood stiffly, shuffling over to a table piled high with books and herbs and potions He grabbed a small bottle full of pink liquid and handed it to Arthur.

“If he wakes up give him this. It will keep the fever down and help him sleep.”

“Where are you going?” Arthur called as the old man shuffled off.

“To bed, of course,” Gaius called back over his shoulder. “You young boys and your antics have worn me out! Besides, there’s no use in two of us staying awake. I know you wouldn’t leave even if I tried to shoo you out, so you may as well keep watch for me.”

Arthur grinned. The physician really did know him well.

Gaius went off to sleep in Merlin’s room, offering them a little privacy. Not that it mattered, with Merlin unconscious, or only semi-conscious. There was so much Arthur was bursting to say, but it would have to wait until Merlin could understand properly.

He re-wet the cloth and placed it back on Merlin’s forehead, leaning back in his chair and trying to settle down comfortably for the long night. He took one of Merlin’s hands in his own, rubbing the slim fingers between his thumb and palm in soothing circles. The skin was clammy and hot to the touch.

Arthur watched the flames flicker over Merlin’s face, a soothing pattern of light and shadow which made those striking cheekbones look even more dramatic. Before he realized it he was drifting off to sleep, Merlin’s hand still clutched in his.

****

Arthur woke the next morning to the smell of food and a light slap to the back of his head. His eyes shot open, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be keeping watch, not sleeping.

Gaius was smiling kindly at him, without a hint of anger. “Have some breakfast, sire. I assume you didn’t eat last night like I told you to.” As if on cue Arthur’s stomach growled loud enough for Gaius to hear, and the prince smiled sheepishly.

Arthur stretched his arms, looking down at Merlin. He was still asleep, but much calmer now, no longer tossing and turning. Gaius handed him a bowl of porridge, following his gaze.

“He is doing much better this morning. The worst of the fever has broken, now it’s just a matter of rest. I think having you here has helped a great deal.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at Gaius’s sentimental smile. “A lot of good I did, falling asleep on duty,” Arthur grumbled, stirring his spoon through the thick porridge with a hidden grimace.

“Yes, well, even so,” Gaius answered cryptically, and left it at that, patting him on the shoulder and shuffling off to set about his morning business.

Arthur spent most of the day watching over Merlin, helping Gaius to clean him up and get him changed into clean clothes. Ordinarily this would have been embarrassing, but Gaius was so matter-of-fact about it that Arthur forgot his shyness at seeing Merlin’s naked skin.

He fed Merlin spoonfuls of water and thin gruel, coaxing him to swallow by rubbing his throat. It reminded Arthur of something he had seen the stable master do with the horses, and the thought made him laugh for the first time in days. Merlin would probably find the comparison unflattering, but would smile anyway. Arthur made a note to tell him when he woke up.

Arthur was forced to go back to his own rooms to bathe and change, and he had to face Uther at some point and explain what had happened (though he left out the part about Merlin insulting a nobleman’s son, instead claiming the fall had been an accident). But at least he was allowed to skip training that day, claiming recovery from a minor cold.

****

Merlin finally woke late that evening. Arthur was sitting by his bedside, amusing himself by looking through one of Gaius’s medical texts, which he really couldn’t make heads or tails of, but the drawings of herbs and flowers were interesting enough.

Merlin let out a few feeble coughs and shifted in the bed, stretching his legs. Arthur looked down to find his eyes cracked open, staring at Arthur with glazed confusion. Arthur immediately dropped the book and leaned forward, placing a hand on Merlin’s forehead, which now felt only the tiniest bit warm, though that could mostly be due to the heat of the fire.

Merlin blinked at him a few times, still not seeming totally aware of what was going on, but not protesting either, which was a relief.

“How do you feel?” Arthur asked gently, running a hand through Merlin’s unruly hair.

“Mmmm,” Merlin mumbled, eyes sliding shut again. “Don’t know. Groggy. Tired. Thirsty.”

Arthur reached for the cup he had left beside the bed, offering it to Merlin, who slid himself up into a semi-sitting position and tried to grasp it with shaking hands. Arthur took it from him and held it to his lips while Merlin took a long sip.

Merlin’s eyes were fully open now, though he still looked a bit dazed as he took in his surroundings.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of the hands.

Arthur felt a brief moment of panic. How much did Merlin remember? Or not remember? Would he recall what happened in the forest, what Arthur had said? Maybe he had forgotten, and they would never have to bring it up, ever again.

“I don’t remember arriving back at Camelot,” Merlin continued, and that answered that question. Arthur’s spirits fell.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t, you were pretty out of it by then,” Arthur explained, trying to keep his voice light, not letting Merlin know how panicked he had been in those moments. There was no use worrying him about it now.

“I remember…voices, and heat, God it was so hot. And I remember a hand. Someone was holding my hand.” Merlin glanced down, clenching his fist a few times and wiggling the fingers, as if recalling the feeling. He looked up at Arthur, a small smile on his lips.

“You?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with that familiar warmth.

Arthur tried to scoff playfully. “Who else? Do you think I would let Gaius hold your hand, that filthy old lecher?” But Merlin only giggled, and Arthur felt himself grinning in response. He reached out to take Merlin’s hand once again, but paused.

Merlin noticed his hesitation and looked up, examining Arthur with those deep eyes which always seemed to see right through him. But right now they looked happy and hopeful, and Arthur wanted to accept the affection he saw reflected there; but he couldn’t, not until he had cleared things up.

“I’m…I’m…” Arthur faltered and Merlin looked confused, wide eyes watching him patiently, small smirk still on his lips.

“I’m…oh, hell. I’m _sorry_ ,” Arthur blurted, eyes on the bedspread, not daring to meet Merlin’s gaze.

He heard Merlin’s breath hitch, and couldn’t help looking up at last. Merlin’s face was a swirl of emotions. Arthur could identify surprise, and something that seemed like tenderness, but there was also sadness there, and possibly even anger. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten, then.

A short silence stretched out between them and Arthur wasn’t sure what else to say.

Merlin saved him the trouble by reaching over and grabbing his hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling it towards himself. Merlin looked down at their hands a moment, as if considering something, and finally coming to a conclusion.

“You’ve never said that to me before,” he said, and Arthur couldn’t tell if it was hurt or amusement choking his voice.

“I know,” Arthur sighed, “it’s not something princes are supposed to say to—“ Merlin looked up sharply, anger back in his eyes, “—anyone,” Arthur finished, and Merlin seemed to relax again. “But for you, I will make an exception,” he drawled in that voice he knew Merlin thought prattish and spoilt, earning a tiny little chuckle from the boy.

But Arthur turned serious again, squeezing Merlin’s fingers tighter in his own. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, I was…out of line. And I should never have let John touch you.” His voice was solemn, looking deep into Merlin’s eyes to let him know how truly sorry he was. Merlin nodded, either agreeing with Arthur’s assessment or accepting his apology, he couldn’t tell which. But Merlin stroked his thumb over the back of Arthur’s hand, a gesture that didn’t seem to hint at imminent rejection.

“I knew you didn’t mean it, but it still...in front of the others, it was humiliating,” Merlin admitted, his eyes downcast. “But I know that yesterday I was being...well, a right prat, I guess. I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he added, meeting Arthur’s gaze with a shy smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Arthur huffed in his most princely voice. “I am most clearly perfect in every way.” Merlin was smiling genuinely now, and the sight of it made Arthur’s heart race. He didn’t realize how much he had missed that smile over the last few days.

Merlin tugged on their connected hands, trying to pull Arthur to him but too weak to do it alone. Arthur obliged by shuffling from the chair onto the bed and snuggling down beside Merlin, relieved to feel his body heat radiating between them.

“You are a spoiled brat who always gets his way and has no consideration for the feelings of others,” Merlin stated in mock admonishment. But his smile tempered the harshness of his words, and Arthur pouted playfully.

“But,” Merlin whispered, leaning in close, inviting Arthur to wrap his arms around him, “I guess I’m something of an idiot, because I love you anyway.”

Merlin was smiling at him shyly and nuzzling against him like a cat, and Arthur wanted to capture his lips in a heated kiss. But he was too stunned.

They had never said those words before. Arthur knew he loved Merlin, so much that it caught him off guard sometimes with its desperation. And he had been pretty sure Merlin felt the same. But it was different to say it. And here was Merlin, letting the words slip out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You...you do?” Arthur asked, embarrassed by the nervous squeak which sneaked it’s way into his voice.

Merlin leaned back to examine him with furrowed brows, a small frown pulling at his lips. “Of course I do. I thought you knew that,” Merlin stated, looking uncertain.

Arthur couldn’t have that. He leaned forward and caught those soft lips in an achingly sweet kiss, chaste and gentle and full of love. When he pulled away Merlin’s lips were smiling again, his eyes sliding open languidly.

“I love you too, idiot,” Arthur whispered, and barely had time to blink before Merlin’s lips were back on his, this time in a deep, desperate kiss.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s thin frame, which felt even more fragile in his weakened state. He ran his hands over Merlin’s back, across his shoulders, down his hips, reassuring himself that Merlin was alright now, that no permanent harm had been done. He was back in his arms, where he belonged, as if nothing had ever happened.

But Merlin seemed more fervent than usual, more desperate for contact. Arthur thought he was probably feeling the same as himself, full of relief and several days worth of suppressed longing. So he obliged, giving himself over to Merlin, letting him take control of the kiss and explore his mouth fully, meeting him with the playful nips of teeth that he knew Merlin loved.

Merlin had climbed practically on top of him in his desperation for contact, sliding the length of their bodies against each other. After a few short moments Arthur could feel Merlin’s arousal pressing into his hip, rubbing eagerly against him.

Arthur’s cock hardened in response, as if reminding him how long it had been since they’d touched like this. Far too long.

They thin layers of clothing suddenly felt suffocating in the combined heat of their bodies and the fire, a problem that was easily remedied. Arthur broke the kiss for a brief moment, and Merlin whimpered until he realized what Arthur was doing and raised his arms so he could pull off his tunic. Arthur shrugged out of his own shirt and carelessly tossed them aside.

Merlin’s mouth was back on his, humming happily at the feeling of warm skin on skin, but Arthur still wasn’t satisfied. He ran his fingers down Merlin’s sides, making him shiver, finding their way to the drawstring of his pants and pulling it loose. Merlin wiggled obligingly, shimmying the pants down his hips and gasping in pleasure as his aching arousal was finally freed of its confines.

Merlin sprinkled open-mouthed kisses over Arthur’s chest and neck while he slid out of his own breeches, unable to get them past his thighs with Merlin still on top of him. But it was enough.

He pulled Merlin back up to his mouth, and their bodies slotted together perfectly, hard lengths sliding against each other, pulling a moan from both their throats.

Merlin was rutting against him frantically and Arthur knew they wouldn’t last long. But that was fine. Just hours ago he didn’t know if he would ever feel this pleasure, this completeness again. A little desperation was understandable. There would be time to take things slow later. Plenty of time.

“Arthur,” Merlin mumbled against his lips, hips snapping in a quick rhythm. Arthur placed his hands on those slim hips, pulling their bodies harder against each other and groaning.

“Arthur, Arthur,” Merlin continued to murmur like a mantra, in time with the motion of his hips. He was close, breathe coming in short gasps and muscles spasming under Arthur’s fingers. Arthur was close behind, glorying in every sensation.

“Love you,” Merlin gasped as he came with a wracking shudder, stilling against Arthur’s chest. It was enough to send Arthur to the brink after him, calling his name as he tumbled over.

They lay panting in the aftermath, scattering chaste kisses over as much skin as they could reach as they caught their breath. Arthur reached for the water and rag still sitting beside the bed and wiped them clean.

Merlin was sleepy and boneless again, cuddling into Arthur’s side and laying his head on his chest. Arthur smiled adoringly, running his fingers through that soft black hair and placing gentle kisses across Merlin’s face. He felt a little guilty for overtaxing a recovering patient, but he could never bring himself to regret it.

“Love you too,” he whispered, but Merlin was already breathing deep and even, and Arthur followed him into sleep.

****

Gaius found them that way the next morning, curled around each other like ivy vines. He just smiled fondly and shook his head, mumbling to himself about the joys of youth as he headed out to start his daily rounds, leaving them in peace.

Maybe he should warn them to be more discreet, but right now he didn’t have the heart. In the years ahead they would face enough challenges. He would let them enjoy this moment for as long as they could.


End file.
